


To Meet Again

by Astomera



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, PWP, ye olde smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astomera/pseuds/Astomera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By chance or otherwise, Arya, now an adult, finds herself face to face with desire and an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Meet Again

Arya always had faith that she would meet Jaqen H'ghar again. When she finally did, she was sure of her desire.

"A sweet girl, and hardly yet a woman. A man would not disgrace a girl in any manner." She expected no less from the man she knew as Jaqen, ever the courteous one. She pressed on.

"I am a woman six years now, and am disgraced by none unless I choose it."

"A girl is too young still." His eyes narrowed but he spoke in a neutral tone.

"If not you, which of these fine suitors will I bed?" Arya waved to the commoners around them, petty criminals and scheming liars indistinguishable from humble farmers and smiths.

"None of them, a man should hope." There was a quirk of his lips when Arya looked away. He had no doubt that she had lain with a man before him. A woman as clever as her could manage many things.

"You would deny a pleading woman her pleasure?"

"A woman would plead?" Quick-witted as Jaqen was, his tongue felt thicker in his mouth. Her smirk was near lecherous.

"Few can make me. I will plead, Jaqen," as if it were a promise and predestined. "I would have you fill me." With lips flushed dark and moistened by her tongue she looked up at him through her lashes and the faceless assassin felt a pull in his loins as well as his crumbling resolve.

Arya was sly, determined, and shameless. He couldn't deny his want of her. Taking a moment to consider his options, he looked at his surroundings before speaking.

"A man would deny a woman little." Passive though his expression was, his voice had taken to a lower pitch. Not much about him was beyond her notice. Casually, she brushed her hand against his clothed loin, then grinned and led him by the belt to her rented room.

"Bold woman, what of the risks?"

"Shut up and undress," she said of the risks, and peeled off her tunic not a moment after the door closed. Jaqen began to disrobe as well, taking care to place his many weapons and tools out of sight, lest Arya become overly curious and distracted.

"You wore the Lannisters' armour well. Whose do you wear now?" She placed her hands on his bare chest.

Passively unlacing his trousers, he regarded her naked body.

"A girl did not think so at the time." And as his slacks dropped: "A man wears no armour to speak of."

"I didn't care overly about looks at twelve." His hands rested on her hips and she inched closer. "You guard your secrets, but it's true; you're quite naked right now."

He chuckled softly and rubbed the skin from her hips to her breasts. Arya ran a hand through his long auburn hair, paying attention to the bright white strands among it.

"Am I allowed to tell you you're beautiful?"

"A man has no face of his own to speak of, just those of others."

"No, then." He smiled just a little. "But you have the red elsewhere," she murmured. Her fingers caressed the area below the lean man's navel. "Is that your own?" Lower still she went. He watched her hand like a hawk. She was gentle but bold in her touches: taking care but eagerly welcoming escalation, she wrapped a hand around his length.

Arya watched his face. He was always alert, she knew, even if he did not seem it...and he never did seem it. His calm, relaxed demeanour was that of a person who had no fear. He didn't fear death like most, but worshipped it, and Arya had never met so great an assassin. She had often thought of him in years gone by. At first, she had wanted to know only his secrets and stories, but time passed and Jaqen's body too she longed to discover. Womanhood had crept up on her like a snake and filled her with the poison of desire.

Moving her hand slowly, their eyes met. He did not have to bend his head very far before they shared a first, slow kiss. His palms slowly moved from her sides, over her chest and collarbone, for one to rest on her neck and the other lightly on her jaw.

They made their way to the bed, where she lay him down and moved over him. This is how it's supposed to be, Arya thought. She felt an obscene joy to have Jaqen under her, regarding her, and feeling her. Arya leaned down to press her lips to his again. Hands roamed and tongues touched. She coiled around him and they lost their breath.

***

They lay for some minutes afterwards, saying nothing. Arya glanced up occasionally to watch Jaqen's face as he stared off in contemplation. After a while, she breached the silence in a soft tone.

"You disappeared for many years. Why should I find you now, and in this of all places?"

"A man has his work." The long auburn hair that fell in waves past his shoulders caught her attention for a moment. It smelled of leather. It was quiet for moments more as she studied his profile.

"You haven't aged a day, I can tell," she noted.

"No?" said he.

"No. You haven't."

"No man is ageless," Jaqen pointed out.

"How many years have you been using this?" Grinning innocence, Arya's hand moved to his pelvis and lower still. "Enough to know how, certainly."

Sly woman. Jaqen had the grace and good sense to stay quiet. If perhaps his breathing stuttered when she began to stroke him, he called no attention to it.

***

"A man has no true face. It would frighten anyone to see, lovely woman."

"Fear is subjective, Jaqen."

"It is a pointless and impossible endeavour. A woman would prefer this over none...though that too is hardly an option."

"Go on," she encouraged. He sighed halfheartedly.

"A woman focuses on it so."

"It's part of who you are."

When he laughed, Arya couldn't help but smile.

***

The sun was beginning to set when they walked to the public bathhouse. There were a dozen people bathing, but the pool was large enough to accommodate twice as many, and the water seemed a good temperature. Arya felt filthy from the days' deeds and a bath was a welcome thing. The two folded their clothes and stepped in.

"Jaqen, I wondered before about something, those years ago...when I first met you, you were a prisoner on his way to the Night's Watch. Did you...did you choose to be arrested?" She scrubbed her feet in the water with a brush.

He chuckled, wetting his hair.

"A man was...curious."

Arya deadpanned. "Really."

"A man could give many reasons for it. Just as a girl did, a man too has secrets."

"Everyone has secrets," she jested, then quieted some. "You went at least a day and night without water, I remember. I'm sorry I didn't give you any." Setting the brush aside, she dipped her head in the water. Once her hair was sluiced away from her face, he grasped her hand.

"Lovely woman." Kissing her knuckles one by one, he moved a few inches closer. "It is long forgiven." Jaqen smirked wistfully and raised his eyes to hers. Something in Arya's chest ached as he looked up at her through his lashes and placed a final soft kiss on her hand.

"You are a deadly thing of beauty, Jaqen. And it is more than just the face you wear." I could love you, she thought. Cupping warm water in her hands, Arya brought it to his head and let it fall over his hair for no good reason but to see it happen. "Lean back. This needs to be scrubbed, you dog."

"Pleasantries in one breath and insults in the next. A woman has no honour." Despite his mocking, familiar words, the man complied and immersed his scalp and hair in the bathwater. Happily, and not very gently, Arya washed it.

***

Against the wall Jaqen pushed her, unbuttoning her slacks and kissing her hungrily. Arya fumbled to undo his, but broke off the kiss, moaning as he pressed her against the stone. Jaqen shoved her slacks and underclothes down and Arya lifted a leg out of them. He grabbed her thigh and lifted her leg, moving to suck at the skin on her neck.

"Oh gods," she whimpered as he entered her. His pace was quick, and his thrusts deep. Their open mouths moved together as they panted. Sounds of their flesh meeting filled the small room.

"Jaqen!" she cried after a shift in position and again as he bruised her throat with his mouth. He would moan and pant and gasp like Arya but not once did he say her name.

***

"Say my name."

"A woman is called Arya Stark."

"Will you ever address me as such?"

"Possibly, lovely woman," he murmured. The corners of his lips lifted and he looked at Arya in that particular way of his.

"Not so much as a word from you while we have sex. I wouldn't mind if you were more vocal, you know."

Taking her by surprise, he rose from his seat at the table and threaded the fingers of one hand through her hair. She adjusted quickly and met his lips with enthusiasm. They fell upon the bed, grasping skin and pulling hair, already bare and again wanting. The need they shared was seldom sated.

***

The tether between them was strong. For days still they lived together in ways that were never possible when she was younger. Desire was welcomed. They moved independently and completely as one at all times, ever closer in spirit, mind, and body.

The time came when Jaqen's duties and Arya's ceaseless quest brought them again to separate paths. Parting once more, Jaqen knew he had not seen the last of Arya Stark.


End file.
